Who You'd Be Today
by JeanieBeanie33
Summary: Songfic to the Kenny Chesney song of the same name. Set in my 'A Second Chance' universe. SSLE pairing. Severus Snape thinks about a very special person in his life on the anniversary of her death.


**Summary**: This is a story based on Kenny Chesney's song by the same name. It's set in my Second Chance world, so to understand it you should read at least chapter 1 of that if you wish to understand this. It has SS/LE, using my ASC world Severus rather than canon, and it's a tearjerker. I'm good at tearjerkers, and I love this song (it's a country song), and it was perfectly (well, almost) tied into ASC. So here it is!

**Disclaimer**: Don't own the characters or places or, well, anything of Harry Potter, and don't own the lyrics to _Who You'd Be Today_. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Kenny Chesney respectively.

_Who You'd Be Today_

A Song-Fic

By JeanieBeanie33

It was _that_ day again, that horrible centenary. It always makes me think of her, of that amazing woman that had opened my heart – and then stole it.

_Sunny days seem to hurt the most  
__I wear the pain like a heavy coat  
__I feel you everywhere I go_

It was sunny, which was terribly unfitting for a day that marks the anniversary of the death of such a wonderful woman as Lily Evans-Potter had been. I always hated sunny days, and more so since Lily died. I hate them even more when they happen on Lily's death's anniversary. The sun always makes me angry. How dare it shine today! How dare it shine on the snow so that it seems to be made of diamonds! How dare it make today so beautiful, when the day marks another when Death took something even more beautiful from this world!

It also reminds me of past days, of past memories that are set back when Lily and I were teenagers, when she would leap into my arms – when she loved me like I still love her.

It also brings me a heavy coat of pain that I can't seem to ever fully get rid of.

_I see your smile, I see your face  
__I hear you laughing in the rain  
__I still can't believe you're gone_

I see Lily's face even more clearly on her deathday. It's usually smiling, seeming to glow like it always did when she smiled. Lily could seem to light up the whole world with her smile. I always told her that, but I don't think she ever believed me. She always was modest, Lily was – the complete opposite of her husband. James Potter was never good enough for her, I was never good enough for her – hell, even the world wasn't good enough for her. Maybe that's why she was taken so early; maybe I was right in my opinion that only Heaven came close enough to being good enough for her.

Rainy days are even worse. Lily always loved the rain, as well as the snow. Days where I would watch her dance and run around in the rain are still quite fresh in my mind. She was usually laughing when she did that, because she took the greatest joy in the smallest things. I could never understand that – still can't, actually – which is why I think that she was an angel. That's probably why I still can't believe, after these long years, that she is gone. After all, how could an angel die? It's also because Lily wasn't the kind of person that you can imagine dying; she's the kind of person that you can imagine living forever. Lily was like Dumbledore, in that perspective.

_It ain't fair, you died too young  
__Like a story that had just begun  
__But Death tore the pages all away_

It wasn't fair. I used loathe people who say that, be disgusted with them, scowl at them, because I always thought, _Life_ isn't fair. That was before Lily died. She died too young – I don't care if only Heaven was good enough for her, as far as I'm concerned _she was too young_. She'd been like a storybook; her life, her story, had just begun to fully blossom into the adventure that it should've been, but Death had torn all the pages out, erased all the writing, and used the paper as fuel for it's cold fire of despair.

_God knows how I miss you  
__All the hell I been through,  
__Just knowin' no one could take your place  
__Sometimes I wonder who you'd be today_

I miss Lily. I missed her even before she died: when she left me after she fell in love with James Potter; when I would wake up and go to the Great Hall to see her sitting with _him_ at a table with _his_ friends; when I would sit at the big beech tree by the lake by myself, with no one sitting in my lap or with their head on my shoulder dozing; when I would do my homework without hearing the scratching of a quill, the locks of red hair I would see out of the corner of my eye, the flipping of a Charms book; when I would see her at another spot by the lake, laughing with her friends or with _him_. Each time, not only would I miss her, but a bit of my soul as well as what was left of my heart would be ripped away. Those days were hell, especially since I knew that no one could or would ever replace her, that nothing would fill in that gaping hole in my heart and soul for the rest of my life.

Now, however, it's not just the pain that eats at me, or the knowledge that no one will ever replace her. It's that that thought, that wondering on who Lily'd be today.

_Would you see the world?  
__Would you chase your dreams?  
__Settle down and have a family?  
__I wonder what you would you name your babies_

What would she be thinking today? What would she be seeing? Would she see her son – maybe her children, because Remus told me she'd been planning to adoptbefore she got sick– running around in the backyard throwing snowballs at each other? Would she be seeing a beach with white sand and sea shells, because she was on vacation? Would she be seeing _me_?

What would she be doing today, right this moment? Would she be cleaning her house, smiling at her children or her husband, perhaps doing some last minute Christmas shopping, or maybe even working on a new charm? She had worked on the Committee of Experimental Charms, after all. Would she be baking cookies with the eldest of her children while at the same time maybe bouncing another on her hip? Would she be yelling at Sirius because he was taking one ofher children on a broom ride and it was only thirty-four degrees outside, twenty-eight when there's a breeze?

That question always brings on another: what would Lily had named her kids? There was no doubt there would be more – Lily had said she'd wanted a big family, having had only a bitter sister and wishing for more brothers and sisters her whole childhood. How many would she have adopted? Two? Three? Five? What if James had been alive and she would've been able to actually have more blood children? What would their age differences be? No one would ever know now. It was amazing, really, how many questions that you could come up with once you knew that they would never be answered.

_Some days the sky's so blue  
__I feel like I can talk to you  
__I know it might sound crazy_

Aaagh! This is why I hate these days. I always think about things like this. Remus says that I'm not alone, that there are others that miss her to and that I can always talk to him if I ever have the need to. Sorry to burst his bubble, but I'm not one to spill my guts to anyone. I've only ever talked intimately with one person, and even though that person is dead, I still do. I know it's insane, but it's true; I still talk to Lily, as if she was here, as if she was alive. It's the sky, I'm sure of it – blue, so very blue and clear that it somehow makes me _want_ to believe in the impossible.

_It ain't fair, you died too young  
__Like a story that had just begun  
__But Death tore the pages all away  
__God knows how I miss you  
__All the hell I've been through  
__Just knowin' no one can take your place  
__Sometimes I wonder who you'd be today  
__Today, today, today  
__Today, today, today_

Like I said, it's not fair. It's not fair that Lily is dead; it's not fair that her son is an orphan; it's not fair that someone so wonderful and amazing and had done nothing but good (save for breaking my heart, but that was partly mine, for depending on her and for not being good enough) has died so young when someone like me who has done nothing except brew some useful Potions and sneer at and torture and kill people is still alive. It's not fair that I'm left alone, probably have committed suicide if it wasn't for the little green-eyed boy that is playing outside in the snow with his godfather right as I am writing this (why am I writing this?). It's not fair that I miss Lily Potter so much that I feel pain at such slight things as rainy days and sunny days and cherries that are that unique shade of red and _that_ kind of flower. It's not fair that no one can replace her. It's not fair that God took away one of his own angels so soon. It's not fair that I'm still thinking about Lily, wondering what she would be like, what she would see, what she would do, what she had seen, what she had done.

Most of all, though, it's not fair that I know no one will ever replace her.

_Sunny days seem to hurt the most  
__I wear the pain like a heavy coat  
__The only thing that gives me hope is I know  
__I'll see you again someday  
__Someday, someday_

There's only one thing that I keep telling myself on these days that are a memoriam for that terrible day when God took back one of his angels and therefore a piece of heaven and my heart, something I tell myself over and over and gives me the closest thing to hope my heart can feel: I'll see her again someday.

For now, though, I'll just have to look after that part of Lily that is still alive, not in just my and other people's hearts, but also in essence and soul: her son, Harry. He doesn't look a lot like her when you first look at him; he has his father's untidy hair and glasses and eyebrows and thin face as well as other features that I won't bother to name. Basically, the spitting image of his dad. However, if you look a little closer, there's the small differences: the nose, the delicate bone structure that's just a tad different, the cleft in his chin, the dimple in his left cheek, the way that one corner of his mouth lifts just slightly higher than the other when he smiles, and of course, there are the eyes: bright, green, and almond shaped. There's also the same kindness, the same gentleness, the same passion for what's right and just and true, the same heart that's made of gold, as well as the same stubbornness – and the same ability to make me _feel_.

Harry Potter may look like James Potter, may have his blasted sense of mischief and untidy hair and short height and whatnot, but he is very much, in personality and otherwise, Lily Evans' son. I should know – I loved her, even though I wasn't worthy of her. That's why I'm filled with hope for when I will see her again someday.

_**Severus Snape**_

Remus Lupin, a sad expression on his face, rolled up the piece of parchment that his curiosity had forced him to unroll the first time.

"Oh, Severus," he whispered to the empty study. "You were worthy enough for Lily more than you'd ever believe."

* * *

I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know in a review, though, would you? I'd greatly appreciate it. 

In case anyone is wondering, I myself am not quite sure where this one-shot happens. I estimate the Christmas Eve when Harry is eight – three years exactly after Lily dies in ASC. It can happen another time if you like, though.

I updated today because I'm leaving to go to Mexico on vacation tomorrow (at 2 a.m. on a Saturday; I'm not sure that's legal, so don't be surprised if I tell you next time I update that I've gone to jail), and I wanted to give you something to read from me, as an update for the actual story wouldn't have been possible (I write slow, because I like to make sure everything sounds good).

Sincerely,

JeanieBeanie33


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